


Hold Me Closely

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 3x1 - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Fluff, POV Multiple, Songfic, Teensy Bit of Angst, basically I just wanted them to hold each other a lot, because they only touch every so often, yup back to those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3+1: Three times Bellamy and Clarke find comfort in each other’s touch, and one time it leads to more.</p><p>Songfic set to Queen of Hearts by We The Kings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Closely

**Author's Note:**

> So this song gave me major feels and basically inspired the whole thing. AU-verse where things aren't so fucked up, per usual. Hope you enjoy!

I.  
_When the world falls into pieces  
You'll be the one voice of reason_

Bellamy stopped in the doorway of the sick bay, taking a quick scan of the room. The majority of beds were empty, as they had been for days now. Everyone was outside, drinking and laughing and, christ, even dancing to the beat of the Grounder drums. 

It had been a week marked by festivities. According to Lexa and Lincoln, Grounder custom dictated that the end of summer be celebrated, both in thanks to the Earth for another year of good fortune and as a wish for good harvest and full stomachs to last the winter ahead. Though the first day or two had been more than a little awkward on both sides, by the third day the Grounders had broken out some of their wines and Monty had cooked up some extra-special moonshine, and from there things had taken a turn for the better.

Well, for everyone except Clarke. Bellamy's eyes landed on the familiar blonde hair at the back of the room, unmoved from where she’d been the past two days. She was hunched over on her stool, her hands busy grinding herbs for yet another poultice. Her mother lay on the cot, asleep for the third day in a row.

Striding inside, he let his boots ring out on the floor. Clarke knew it was him. She’d probably known he was standing by the door for the past few minutes, too. He stopped right by her side.

“How is she?”

“No change,” she answered tiredly. “The fever isn't breaking. Every time I think it might, it reverts. I’ve tried everything I can think of.” When she glanced up, her gaze narrowed to the cups in his hands. “What’s that? Cider?”

He nodded. “Didn’t want you to miss out. It’s actually pretty good.” He put one cup on the floor next to her and the other on the table by her mom’s head. At Clarke’s look, he smiled gently. “For when she recovers.”

Clarke returned the smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. Bellamy grasped her shoulder. “Clarke, she’s going to make it.”

He watched Clarke’s throat bob as she swallowed thickly. “What if she doesn’t?” She whispered. 

“She will. You know she will.”

Her shoulders sagged as she hastily wiped a sleeve across her face. “I thought it was just a summer cold. Everyone had one at some point. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the symptoms sooner.”

This guilt trip was helping no one. Bellamy took the bowl from her lap and set it on the table, ignoring her feeble protests. Then he gathered her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin and stroking her hair. Clarke resisted only for a moment before leaning against him. He felt wetness where her cheek lay against his neck. 

It wasn’t often that he gave into the urge to hold her like this. He knew she was strong - stronger than just about anyone he’d ever known - and how much she hated being treated like something fragile, so he tried to downplay the urge whenever it popped up. But the truth was, she was all too precious to him, and he’d just recently started to realize it. So he let his grip tighten a little, reassured by the fact that she wasn’t pulling away.

“It’s been two full days,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “Nothing I’ve done has helped.”

“That’s not true,” Bellamy argued quietly. “You’ve been by her side every second, making sure she eats and drinks. You’ve used every medicine at your disposal. O said her temperature’s slowly becoming more stable. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me the body needs to rest in order to heal?”

Her arms squeezed his torso. “I know. I just can’t help running through all the scenarios in my head.”

“You think too much,” he scolded lightly, but it had no bite.

Clarke sighed, her nose rubbing against his skin as she burrowed closer. “Do you know I’ve never seen her sick? The only time I ever saw her lying down was when she was asleep at night.”

“Clarke, she’s going to be alright,” he said fiercely. “She’s strong and stubborn and one of the toughest people here. It’s going to take more than a little illness to take her down for long. She’s a fighter.”

She sniffed against his shirt. “How do you even know? You two barely talk.” 

Leave it to his princess to find logic even when she was upset. “You’re right, I don’t know her. But I know _you._ ” Clarke’s eyes lifted to his, and Bellamy smiled. “Like mother, like daughter.”

She let out a sound that might have been a laugh. Her head dropped to his shoulder again and he held her close for a long time. Even the strongest of warriors needed a break now and then, time to drop their armor and just _be,_ and Bellamy was determined to give that to Clarke however he could. 

He was still in the unit late that night when Abby’s fever finally broke. Bellamy detached himself from the wall where he’d been hovering, watching Clarke smile in relief as her mom croaked out a few words, the most she’d said in days. As mother and daughter quietly embraced, he carefully eased back into the shadows and let himself out through the side door.

The next morning, he didn’t even bother stopping by Clarke’s tent, swiping a few extra snacks from the rations tent before heading straight for the sick bay. As expected, Clarke was already up and about. She’d tied her hair back into a long ponytail, a few misbehaving strands escaping to curl around her face. Without the curtain of hair, he could see her quick smile and easy movements, at least one heavy burden finally lifted off her shoulders.

“Morning, princess.” He dropped the food onto the table next to her with a scolding finger. “These better be gone when I get back.”

Instead of replying, she turned and put her arms around his shoulders, stretching to her tiptoes to enfold him in a hug. For a moment, Bellamy couldn’t register anything aside from how his mouth touched the skin of her shoulder now that her hair wasn’t in the way. Then Clarke breathed “thank you” into his ear, and his arms moved of their own accord to wrap around her back. There was a featherlike touch of lips against his cheek, so swift and hesitant Bellamy would have been convinced he’d imagined it if the entire patch of skin wasn’t now on fire.

When Clarke finally pulled away, she smiled brightly and picked up the snacks. “Thanks for breakfast,” she said, and he nodded as if she hadn’t just completely turned him inside out. 

 

II.  
_When I can't face all my demons  
You are the one I believe in_

Clarke wasn’t really sure how it had started. One moment she was insisting that everyone else go enjoy the latest batch of Monty’s moonshine, and the next she had a cup in her hand and was sitting around a fire with Octavia, Murphy, Monroe, and Bellamy. All she’d wanted was to distract the others from the careful glances and hesitant questions that had been following her for the past week, ever since she’d returned from being a Grounder captive. 

She’d only spent a few days in their hold before being released, largely in thanks to some hefty negotiating on Bellamy’s part that she still didn’t truly know the details of. And yet everywhere she went, she was met with ginger touches and very few requests for help, instead left to her own devices for most of the day. It was maddening, and she just wanted it to stop. She wanted to remind everyone that she was far from broken.

So when Murphy, being Murphy, outright asked her if she was still in pain from their “special treatment,” she didn’t really mind. But beside her, Bellamy stiffened instantly. Clarke pressed her knee against his in silent reassurance while Monroe pointedly elbowed Murphy in the ribs. 

“Not anymore. Now I just have the scars,” she said easily.

Murphy held up his hands. “I hear that.” Leaning closer, she studied his fingers the way she had long ago when he’d returned to them after torture. They were hardened stumps, with a hint of the nails that had once been there.

She held up her own hand next to his. “I don’t think my pinky will ever be straight again.” 

He blinked in surprise, then grinned. Clarke looked over at Bellamy, ready to share in the joke, but he was staring straight down at the ground, his face blank. His hands were clenched so tightly in front of him that his knuckles turned white.

Then Murphy tapped her arm and pulled the collar of his shirt aside to reveal a long white line. “Bet you can’t beat this.”

Clarke wasn’t sure if it was the moonshine, or maybe just the need to get everyone to stop treating her like a china doll. Whatever it was, it made her raise her shirt at the hip to reveal the jagged scar that bisected her side.

“Somehow I feel like-”

Whatever she was about to say got lost when Bellamy abruptly stood up and walked away. Clarke looked to Octavia for help, but the younger Blake sibling was just shaking her head sadly.

Murphy grunted. “What’s he so mad about? It’s not like it was him they got.”

“Exactly,” Octavia said quietly. “It wasn’t him, but he thinks it should have been.”

That shut him up.

Clarke stared after Bellamy’s tall form quickly striding away into the dark. She scrambled up and followed. He was walking so fast that, combined with his lengthy strides, she had to run to catch up. She rounded the corner just in time to watch his fist smash into a tree. Her mouth opened in a silent cry. Then he did it again.

“Bellamy, stop!”

He spun around. The despair in his eyes was staggering before he looked away. His hands rested limply at his side as his shoulders sagged.

Clarke stepped closer. “Why are you punching a tree?” She asked carefully.

“Would you rather I punch Murphy?”

“Why do you have to punch anyone?”

A clench of his jaw was the only response she got. Clarke reached out and grasped his hand. His fingers were rigid, but she was determined. The skin was already angry and raw where it stretched over his knuckles. Somehow, he hadn’t broken any of the bones. She could still hear the sickening sound of his hand encountering the trunk. There were the slightest flecks of brown mixed in with the red - splinters, from the wood.

“This needs antiseptic.”

Bellamy tried to pull away. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, but Clarke was undeterred.

She pulled his chin back down to hers forcefully, suddenly needing to keep contact with him to make her point. “Oh really? When I have to keep you in medical overnight to soak your hands in some Grounder concoction you’ll be _fine_? When your hands swell up and you can’t hold a gun tomorrow you’ll be fine?”

Bellamy grunted, but when he didn’t argue she knew she had him. Wrapping her hand firmly around his, she lead them the long way around camp to her tent. Once inside, she zippered the flap shut so they wouldn’t be disturbed. With a small shove, she made him sit on her mat while she retrieved her things and crouched next to him. It made her nervous that he didn't resist. He was silent as she slowly tore strips of fabric and dipped them in the clear liquid. 

“This is going to sting,” she warned.

The first touch of the cloth to his skin made him hiss in pain. Clarke kept a tight grip on his hand, murmuring soft nonsense while she cleaned the wounds as quickly as she could. They were both silent as she finished, though now his hands were holding hers just as tightly.

“I didn’t mean to upset you earlier,” she finally said, looking up.

Bellamy shook his head. “Forget it.”

“No,” she insisted, “I won’t. I didn’t… I didn’t know you’d react like that.” When he didn’t reply, she leaned a little closer. “Octavia said you wish it was you who’d been captured.” He flinched, and her hand traveled up to dig into his shoulder. “Tell me that’s not true. Tell me that’s not what you’re thinking.”

His eyes closed in something like defeat, and suddenly she was holding onto him like he was her life raft and she was drowning. “Bellamy,” she shook him until finally his eyes opened again. There was no more hardness, just ache and exhaustion.

“I hate that it was you,” he choked out. “I hate that you had to go through that. All I wanted was to take my gun and find you. I didn’t care how many of them I’d take out on the way.”

The misery in his voice was almost too much to bear. When he didn’t continue, she asked, “Why didn’t you?”

Bellamy’s smile was sad and bitter. “I kept hearing your voice in my head, telling me to _think_ before doing. I kept thinking you’d want me to do better. To _be_ better. So I waited, and I negotiated.” He spit the word out like it was poison.

Clarke cradled his cheek. “And you were wonderful.” At his scoff, she continued insistently. “I mean it. You can’t imagine how much they respect you now. Bellamy, you’re the reason I’m still alive.”

“And I’m the reason they hurt you. If I’d just gotten there sooner-”

“No. Don’t do that,” she said fiercely. “They hurt me long before the news reached you.” At his questioning glance, she shrugged. “I deprived them of a kill once. They haven’t forgotten. They were bitter.”

His eyes closed again and Clarke brought her forehead to his. “Listen to me carefully, okay, because I’m only going to say this once.” She gripped the collar of his jacket. “Thank you for not coming in guns blazing. Thank you for not losing control.” _Like Finn._ “I don’t think I could have stood it if you… if anything happened to you because of me.” _Not again. Not ever._

Bellamy’s arms wrapped around her. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, her nose turned toward his neck. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional hiccup, and held him tighter, making it clear she wasn’t letting go. 

When she’d first returned, they’d shared a hug like this, except it was all too brief for her to properly register the tumult of emotions flashing across his face, fear to anger to pain and finally sheer thanks. But he’d been clinging to her with the same harsh breaths, the same uncontrolled flexing of his fingers in her hair, and it was only now that she was starting to see what it had been like for him. She pressed closer, trying to silently convey that she wasn't going anywhere. There was a ragged sigh, and then the faintest touch of lips upon her skin. Neither of them moved the rest of the night.

The next morning, Clarke woke still encased in Bellamy’s arms on the mat. At some point they'd shifted so he was on his back, her curled into his side, his arm still over her shoulders and hers wound around his torso. As if they were each trying to protect the other. She studied him for an extra moment, his face smoothed in peace, his fingers splayed on her waist. Nothing had felt so right in a long time.

By the time Bellamy roused from sleep, she was sitting next to him bandaging his injured hand.

“Ray says the meat supply’s still pretty solid,” she began, “so you probably don’t need to worry about that today. I, however, have a long list for you.” She didn’t have to look up to see his small smile. “We need to get as many plants as we can before the cold weather starts settling in for good. I don’t want us to run low when everything’s frozen over.”

“Dave mentioned something about getting extra furs to line the inside of the tents, or at least the rooms of the main cabins,” Bellamy offered.

“Do what you can but don’t go overboard. We can always send another group for those.”

“Yes, princess.”

Clarke didn’t try to stop her eye roll. She tied off the bandage efficiently but held onto his fingers a moment longer. “This needs to be changed twice a day until I say otherwise, got it?” 

She held his gaze until he nodded. “I got it.”

“And Bellamy,” she added right before he left the tent, “no more punching trees.”

Bellamy swallowed. “No more,” he agreed softly. Then his mouth quirked. “Can I punch-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know who,” he protested. 

Clarke bit her cheek to hide her smile, though she didn’t quite succeed. “Still no.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” 

 

III.  
_Through the thunder and the rain  
Together we fall, together we fly away _

The sky was lit up once more by a bolt of lightning, illuminating the blood on Bellamy’s face for a split second. Clarke swung around, trying to peer through the darkness and downpour for the hoofbeats that they had heard just moments before. Her hand curled more tightly around his, their fingers slick with rain and dirt. 

Nearby, a horse whinnied.

Fear crashed through her again. They were stranded in the middle of a storm with an angry new group of Grounders on their tail, Bellamy’s temple was still bleeding from the hit he’d taken, and her nails were digging into his palm so tightly he’d probably have crescent-moon impressions for life. Not to mention she was out of bullets, thanks to that group of idiots that had ambushed them.

A steady _clip clop_ reached her ears. Bellamy heard it the same time she did, because he tugged her backwards immediately.

“There’s nowhere to go,” she protested, but he didn’t hear her over the roar of the downpour. Still holding his hand, Clarke let herself be nearly dragged off the path and further into the forest. Her eyes swept the dirt for _something, anything_ \--

 _There._ She dug in her heels with all her might, giving Bellamy’s arm a hard yank. When he turned, she pointed at the small hollow by the foot of a tree. The massive trunk and tangle of roots hid it from sight of the path. Bellamy opened his mouth to argue, but shut it immediately when the sound of horse hooves got closer.

Without a second thought, she tugged him towards the small space, pushing him in first and following. For a few seconds, they were a jumble of hasty, trembling limbs, silently scolding each other with a glare every time one of them got in the other’s way. Then Bellamy’s hand clamped over her mouth, and his voice was directly in her ear.

“Stop fighting me, Clarke.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away as she let her body go limp. Bellamy gently adjusted her limbs, his touch firm but careful, until she was folded between the cradle of his knees. Clarke let out an uneven breath against his shirt, trying to control her shivering. Unconsciously, she pushed closer to him, craving warmth and comfort. His arms surrounded her like a security blanket, and she pressed her nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of pine and rain.

When horse hooves rang out distinctly on the ground, they both nearly stopped breathing. Bellamy’s entire body locked up around hers like a protective shield. Peeking up, she saw the familiar, determined look that he always wore. The look that said, _I dare you to try._

But his pulse hammering under her ears gave away just how scared he really was.

At this point, she’d come to learn his body so well that it’d become a second language. So she laid her head directly over his heart, and her arms slid around his torso. _I’ve got you._

His fingers tightened on her shoulder. _I’ve got you too._

They stayed like that as the footsteps approached. Only a single set, Clarke gratefully noted. The footfalls continued, steady and searching, but she focused only on holding tightly to Bellamy until the steady _clip clop_ faded into the distance.

Neither of them moved. The rain continued to fall, drumming over the land in a steady pattern. The rushing water drowned out any other sound, like the static that intervened with their radios on occasion. Clarke forced herself to take deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. Only later did she realize Bellamy’s chest was falling and rising with hers as he attempted to do the same. 

When her heart couldn’t quite stop tripping over itself, it occurred to her that maybe it had less to do with their pursuer and more with the boy who currently had his arms around her. The thought made her flush.

Who was she, sitting in the rain after a near-attack and thinking about Bellamy like… like… _that_?

Eventually, Bellamy’s whisper sounded in her ear. “I think they left.”

“Maybe.” She paused, waiting for his grip to loosen. It didn’t. A moment later, she said, “But we should stay here just in case. No use wandering in the rain at night.”

Clarke thought she felt his mouth curve up, though she refused to look. “Sure, princess.” It was more of a sigh than anything else, though there was definitely an undercurrent of amusement now. 

Belatedly, she remembered his head. “Wait, you’re hurt!” Raising her eyes, she traced the dried blood along his temple. He winced. “Bell, you should have said something sooner,” she scolded.

A grin split his face. “Bell?”

Clarke stammered for a long moment, warmth flooding her cheeks. Where had that come from? It had just slipped right out, rolled off her tongue like it was a fond term she used every day. She didn't, but she certainly _could..._ Bellamy's smile widened when she couldn't seem to form any words for a full minute. Then her fingers probed at a spot on his forehead that made him hiss in pain and she was back to being worried once more. 

“I’ll be fine,” he told her softly. “I’ve had worse. Besides, your kit’s gone, remember? We dropped the packs.”

But he let her check the wound to her satisfaction, and if she lingered a little longer than necessary, neither of them commented. “You should be fine until morning,” Clarke finally said. “But if you feel the least bit strange, you tell me, okay?” 

Nodding, Bellamy looped his arm around her again, drawing her back against his chest. His fingers wove through her hair, the soothing touch making her smile against his shirt. They remained wrapped together for the remainder of the night, and though neither of them really slept at all, it was hard to deny that each felt considerably better in the morning.

 

IV.  
_Hold me closely  
You are my one and only ___

__Clarke’s hand was firmly clamped onto his jacket sleeve, as it had been ever since they left camp. More accurately, since she’d dragged him from camp. His protest had been overridden by a radiant smile and a cheery, “This won’t take long” as she plowed forward. It wasn't too hard to give in. Full-blown Clarke Griffin smiles were a thing of beauty, and had the (unintended) effect of rendering him fairly useless. His sister had been no help, merely waving goodbye with a far too mischievous smile of her own. Now here they were, traipsing through the forest._ _

__“So eager to get me alone, princess?” He teased because he had nothing left in his arsenal._ _

__Clarke raised an eyebrow over her shoulder. “You wish.” The retort was ruined by the wave of pink that blossomed in her cheeks. The sight managed to distract him rather well for several minutes._ _

__But soon his curiosity overwhelmed him again. “Come on Clarke, at least give me a hint.”_ _

__“We’re almost there.”_ _

__That was not helpful at all. Bellamy recognized the direction, of course. They were headed for the huge lake, the one his people and the newest Grounder tribe had been fighting for control over for several weeks now. Frankly, he found the negotiations and debates to be more exhausting than just shooting each other._ _

__It was why Clarke usually did the talking._ _

__At the moment, though, they were at a standstill. The other tribe was asking for too much in return for the lake, and despite how valuable of a resource it would be to them, Bellamy and Clarke had agreed they couldn’t give in. Not yet. Their supplies were dwindling and winter would be closing in in a few months time. They couldn’t afford it._ _

__So as a temporary peace offering, he and Clarke had lead a group to the lake about a week ago. With strips of colorful cloth and small twigs, they’d planted small flags around the perimeter of the water, clearly signifying the boundary to both them and the Grounders._ _

__He’d been in an awful mood ever since. There was nothing he hated more than having to give up such a precious resource that his people could have likely used for a long time to come. He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed when Clarke pulled him out of the trees and towards the water. She had to yank on his hand twice before he he looked at her._ _

__She was grinning widely, bouncing on her toes in excitement. “Look,” she told him meaningfully._ _

__Bellamy glanced out, the sight making his mood cloudy again. “I see the flags and the lake,” he said flatly._ _

Clarke hit his shoulder. “Do I have to do everything?” Though she grumbled, her eyes were still alight. She grabbed his chin firmly and turned his face to the water again. “Look where the flags _are."_

__He did as he was told even though he didn’t see the point. The flags were right where they’d left them, no more than scraps of yellow and red and blue fabric waving cheerily across the water and forming a semi-circle by the edge--_ _

He sucked in a sharp breath. The flags were _across_ the water. When he looked back at Clarke, she was beaming. It took him two more glances back and forth to fully register what he was seeing. 

__“Is this real?”_ _

__She nodded, bobbing up and down on her toes. Bellamy rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “The lake is ours?”_ _

__“The lake is ours.” Clarke said it with such smug finality that he just _knew_ she’d been behind the whole thing._ _

__“How?” He croaked._ _

__Clarke waved a hand in dismissal. “They needed the supplies, and we needed the lake.”_ _

__“But your-”_ _

__“I can always trade with Lexa’s tribe to get back the other things. It’s not like we’re that tight at the moment. Everyone’s been more careful lately. Plus, the guys are planning a few more raids on the bunkers further west. If they’re anything like the last time, we’ll be fine for a while yet.”_ _

__Bellamy opened and closed his mouth several times. “Why?” he asked finally._ _

__She shrugged. “You wanted the lake. So I got it.”_ _

__He stared down at her, his brilliant, brave princess who was at the moment avoiding his eyes and scuffing a boot in the dirt as if she hadn’t just gone and negotiated the most important resource they’d ever had with a group of fierce spear-wielding warriors._ _

__Laughing loudly, he swept her up into a joyous hug. Clarke yelped as her feet left the ground and clung tightly to him as he spun her in a circle. He felt her lips curve against his neck, a relieved breath warming his skin. When he set her down and drew back, it was only to plant a hard kiss on her mouth._ _

__“You never cease to amaze me, you know that, princess?” He laughed again and strode towards the water, hardly believing his eyes._ _

__When Clarke didn’t join him, he turned in confusion. She was still standing a few feet back, frozen in shock. Her fingers were at her lips._ _

_Oh, shit._

__Bellamy rushed back. “Hey, Clarke, I’m sorry about that. Really. I didn’t mean- I just- you- and the lake…” He trailed off uselessly. When she stared up at him with the same wide-eyed expression, he sighed and turned his back to her, dropping his face into his hands in frustration._ _

__What had he done? It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, but normally it involved a heck of a lot more finesse and certainly her agreement in the matter. Bellamy prayed he hadn’t just completely screwed things up with one impulsive action._ _

__He was so worried that he missed the first tug on his jacket. Then came another more forceful yank, and he turned, fully intending to explain._ _

__Small, strong hands linked around his neck and pulled his mouth back to hers. Now he was the one who was frozen, arms hanging limply by his side as Clarke kissed him._ _

_Clarke was kissing him._

__His heart screamed until the message traveled to his brain, and finally his lips responded, sliding warmly against hers as his hands landed on her waist and pulled her close. Clarke melted into him, her pink lips more soft and eager than he’d ever imagined. He kissed her back with all the longing and tenderness he could muster, the way he’d always intended to kiss her for the first time._ _

__It was Clarke who pulled away first to take a breath. Bellamy kept his arms around her, unwilling to let go. Her hands remained in his hair, her fingers twisting and playing absently with the curls at his neck._ _

__“If I’d known that would be your response, I would have gotten the lake weeks ago,” she said a little breathlessly._ _

__He stared at her in a mix of awe and disbelief, starting to feel strangely giddy. Not only had Clarke not broken his bones for kissing her, she’d kissed him back, and was now standing in his arms with a soft smile as she teased him._ _

__He was a goner._ _

__His mouth ghosted over hers, feeling her lips part with a quiet intake of breath. When he sucked gently on her bottom lip, a sound between a sigh and a moan escaped her throat and her nails scraped his neck._ _

__“If I’d known this would be your response, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Bellamy admitted with a grin, rewarded by the redness that instantly covered her face._ _

__As it turned out, they made up for lost time fairly quickly._ _


End file.
